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Every word that Luke spit was a hammer that drove the nail of hurt and depression further into Charlie’s heart.

Kids that she’d never have with Sam.

A mausoleum of a house that would never feel right again.

Her jaw set and her arms crossed over her chest, green eyes still ablaze with absolute unhappiness; part of it felt like a betrayal, to hear Luke all but say she’d be living in the shadow of Sam’s memories, but it was true. Charlie watched him stalk around the kitchen like a caged animal getting ready to pounce, but she would hold her ground. That didn’t mean she couldn’t feel the ball of emotion building in her chest, beginning to claw its way up her throat with sharp talons.

It had only been a few months. She wasn’t even thinking about ‘a new guy’. She wanted her husband back, and she definitely wasn’t looking for a replacement any time soon… neither was she looking to use those upstairs bedrooms and fill them with bassinets and mobiles or baby monitors. Part of her knew that Luke was right: she couldn’t just stay here, keeping everything in the same, pristine condition Sam had left it in, but she couldn’t move on, either.

They’d built a life here. They’d had a plan. He’d wanted a working farm and they’d been damn close to it.

“Why even fucking ask, then, if you’ve already decided what to do?” Charlie muttered tiredly over the cup, shaking her head before taking another drink of coffee. She was too drained to keep fighting, and the outburst had left her spent. There were plenty of rebuttals she could have made, starting with it wasn’t any of his goddamn business how quickly she made a life that wasn’t centered around Sam.

“I said I wanted to stay.” Her eyes flashed back to Luke’s with renewed conviction. “I’m gonna stay. So, you can help me or not, I don’t care.” The brunette allowed a shuddered exhale to escape her, sipping the cold, black liquid again. “Christ, Luke. I don’t know what to do, or how to do it.”

She needed help, as much as it pained her to admit it. Luke had helped Sam around the land more than she had, especially when he spent his leave there. “I…” Charlie wet her lips, her fingers playing with the mug nervously. She should have offered some apology, but it would have only been half-hearted. She’d meant every word she said, just as much as he likely had, too. “There’s always a room for you here. You know that.” If he didn’t, he fucking should have by then.

Charlie knew it was going to be difficult; there wasn’t a part of her that expected to be easy to stay there, with Sam’s truck and the dreams of unborn children filling the house, but it was the right thing to do.

She would need help to do Sam’s job around the farm. She hadn’t exactly had a great income since moving to Montana, but she’d managed. The time she took away from illustrating meant that it was even less money, and -- The words were quiet as Charlie hung her head. “I need you.” She placed the mug gently onto the counter, burying her fingers in Jake's fur as he nudged up against her. "So tell me what you've been doing over the past few months and maybe we can catch up over some bad reality TV?" Charlie's head nodded toward the living room.

The Hallowed: Ephale, a sentient, one-horned horse. The Exultated: Nephilim, those who fell from above and came from below.The Reviled: Shaefts, shifters that invaded the human world and lived peacefully.

Humans now occupy the vast majority of Avalch, pushing such fantastical creatures to places that originally were never intended for life. The most remote places on Avalch are rumored to have the most sacred creatures, though these things had adapted to fit their new surroundings.

Laephe, now beasts that were found in the deepest lairs of thorny forests and capable of magic.Liphiemn, now demonic creatures that were found in the darkest caves and capable of manipulating human senses.Thaessf, now impish beings that were found in the Deep Sea and capable of luring unsuspecting humans to their demise.

Many royals and nobility of Avalch find sport in hunting such things. Scores of men and women alike attempted to eradicate the ‘scourges’ that plagued the earth, even though their desecration was due to Man’s greed and expansion. Though, while Man hunted, they still took risks. Many who embarked on such missions did not reappear, most more harrowed and quiet after they had returned to their castles and lands.

For they were not the only things hunting.

The Thaessf’s Queen, Nemast, has ruled for centuries. Now heading the last remaining colony, she attempts to prepare her daughters for the throne.

There had not been one among the Thaessf that had managed to pluck twenty hearts from the chests of men. So, Nemast agreed that the first to twenty would win.

But Lirisse, ever seeking a challenge, told Nemast she wanted to earn her place on the throne with a final contest. She would pick the most powerful prince in the kingdoms of Avalch and seek him out.

Nemaste insisted to do so as a shifter, powers that had long ago become void, but all possessed. It would give Luntë enough time to collect two hearts while her youngest went on a foolhardy quest.

Lirisse agreed.

Alright, guys, I'm looking for someone preferably above 21+ interested in playing the prince. Hopefully I've got your attention with the plot above. It isn't completely fleshed out, but I do know the end point. I'm looking for a special person to play this out with (3 - 5 paragraphs per reply, aka 350 - 1000 words per reply / preferably over GDocs / won't shy away from mature themes / writes well), so if you could send me a writing sample, that'd be great! So send me a PM and maybe we can get something going!

It was the first New Year’s Eve that Sam and Charlie had spent together in Nashville. They drank, socialized with her friends and family, and couldn’t keep their hands off each other; but as the clock’s hands finally passed 11:45, Sam became antsy, twisting the empty beer bottle in his hands as they had escaped to a quiet corner of the roof.

What’s wrong?

Nothing.

Charlie had scoffed, shaking her head. Her dark hair was pulled into a chic, low ponytail, conflicting sharply with the bright red of her slinky cocktail dress that hugged every curve. Something is clearly wrong, or you wouldn’t be acting like this.

Like what? Sam had shot back, his dark eyes roaming over her quickly before returning to the empty drink in his hands.

Like you’re ten and you’re pouting. Can we just go ahead and skip to the raucous make-up sex? She’d attempted to lighten the mood, flashing a smile and letting her breasts rub against his arm as she turned to face him fully.

Do you love him?

Who?

I’ve seen the way you look him, Charlie. Luke. Pain flashed across Sam's handsome face. C’mon. Don’t do this.

Your brother? She’d asked with evident confusion, her brows furrowing. Luke was attractive, sure, and it was fun to bicker with him, but she’d been with Sam for a year and a half. She’d barely figured out she loved him, much less been able to develop a crush on anyone else.

Yes, my goddamn brother. Do you love him?

I barely know him, Sam! Charlie laughed, shaking her head. Christ. It was true, though; yeah, she enjoyed the harmless banter she shared with Luke, but there was nothing past that except for a minimal amount of sexual tension. So, no. I don’t love your brother. Her green eyes flashed to find his honeyed hues. I love you, you idiot. So come here and let's ring in the new year.

It would absolutely, indubitably, unquestionably be easier for Charlotte McCormick if Luke wanted to stay at a motel.

But the last thing she wanted was to be in this goddamn house alone. It was huge, with four bedrooms and just as many bathrooms. Charlie hadn’t realized how suffocating so much empty space could be, or how cloying and smothering Luke’s presence would be without Sam’s to balance the scales.

Sam had been kind. Gentle. Loving. Patient.

Luke was none of those things.

It was amazing the contrasts she could draw now that one of them was gone. She’d cursed herself plenty of times for thinking that God had taken the wrong one but staring at Luke made her realize that it had been unfair for her to think that, too. That she didn’t really think that Luke would be the right one to have died, either, and that consumed the woman with guilt. He brought back a lot of damn memories, most of them shameful, especially as she leaned over the counter of the island they’d almost fucked on.

It’s hard to stay, and it’s hard to go.

That should have been his motto, and if Charlie had been more than a shadow of the woman who had fought over a damn goat, she would have told him that.

The Ambroses and the Addisons were giving her time to grieve. The brunette was well aware that the town was observing a mourning time for her, but with Luke’s arrival her peace would likely soon end. She knew that as certainly as she did that it would be better to have him gone, especially as that smirk found his features. Charlie’s jaw set, taking another drink of coffee as she watched Sam’s brother lean down to fill a bowl that she’d been neglecting.

She let a hand drop, her fingers brushing over Jake’s silky ears. The poor creature looked up at her with happy, oblivious brown eyes that had been the color of Sam’s and –

“You think I should sell,” Charlie said flatly, her eyes flaring with indignation. She could feel heat travelling up her chest, overcoming her neck, and advancing into her cheeks. “Why the fuck would I sell it?” This had been their family home. They’d sunk a fortune into the farmhouse, getting it up to her standards; they were going to start a family soon. One of the rooms upstairs had been painted a pretty, gender-neutral gray for when she got pregnant, another a sweet, creamy yellow that would suit the next baby.

Charlie knew she couldn’t take care of anything on her own. She didn’t know the first things about when to bale hay, what to plant, when to kill animals (not that she would), or anything else that had to do with a farm. Hell, she wasn’t even a fan of collecting the eggs from the fucking chickens, but she’d be damned if she didn’t give it a try. Didn’t she owe that to Sam?

She’d always had a terrible mouth when it came to Luke. He’d never held back, and she’d taken it as an invitation to do the same. “Wait. You’re ‘mostly here’ to see how much I want to keep the land and the farm that your brother restored? That my husband died while working on it?” She let out a mirthless laugh and shook her head, finally able to look directly at Luke. “You’ve lost your goddamn mind.”

The woman sat her coffee on the counter and stood, moving to lean on the refrigerator, before finally crossing her arms over her chest and deciding to play Devil’s advocate. “What exactly am I supposed to do if I sell it, Luke? Where the fuck am I supposed to go?” Charlie still had family in Nashville, but Hingham Valley had been her home for six years. She’d fought against her parents to come here, and they’d all but disowned her for throwing away the opportunities they’d lined up for her in the South. “I don’t have the luxury of running away when shit happens.”

The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them and, instantly, she regretted them.

A small portion of her mind reminded her that being too touchy with the soldier had caused problems in her marriage. That Sam had mentioned in passing plenty of times how he was thankful that she got along with her brother, but she saw the way his eyes lingered on their easy touches, the conversations where her laughter was loud and drew a hint of a smile from Luke’s mouth.

Charlotte couldn’t remember how many Christmas’ it had been when she’d overheard bits and pieces of hissed words and raised voices from the boys in the living room. The house hadn’t been close to finished yet and she’d answered a call from her best friend, Camille.

“How’s it going? Any better?”

Charlie had laughed mirthlessly. “You mean is my husband any less pissed after I whispered his brother’s name in bed?” She’d been asleep, in the middle of turning over and finding a body under the covers. She could still remember the way Luke’s name had fallen from her lips in her sleep induced confusion, fingers running over familiar shoulders until she realized what she’d done. “I’m going to go with a hard no.”

“It’s not your fault, Char. It’s not like you knew what you were doing.” No, she hadn’t, but there wasn’t any way in hell that she could say that it was okay for her to say Luke’s name as her hands had continued down, down, down...

“It doesn’t exactly inspire trust and confidence, does it? You know he asked me if we fucked.” Charlie had initially been hurt through that quickly transitioned into being pissed.

“And you said?”

“I said no! Jesus, Milly, I didn’t fuck my brother-in-law! Don’t you think I would have told you that?” the woman hissed into the phone, her nose scrunching. She hadn’t slept with Luke, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t thought about it. God, what type of horrible person was she? Maybe it was because they knew they would never act on it and there was something tantalizing about wanting something that could never be had.

“Well, yeah, but you gotta admit it’s the first question that people would ask,” Camille said, and Charlie swore she could see the shrug that her friend gave her through the phone.

“I guess, but not from the man I married. You’d think he’d have some trust -- “

“Yeah, Charlie, but even I’ve seen you all together and it’s damn incriminating.”

Charlie knew that. She knew that plenty of people in town mentioned that she’d married the ‘better choice’, the ‘safer option’. All she could do was smile and act like she wasn’t offended, but when push came to shove, she had known that it had been very much a choice. The woman could still remember how safe Sam could make her feel, how he talked her down off of ledges and averted crises that were now laughable. That didn’t mean she could stop herself from thinking about Luke when he was on tour, or from being excited when he came back.

He was her brother-in-law. She was allowed to care, wasn’t she?

So when Sam was so angry and announced he was going to bed, Charlie went to let Jake out onto the porch. Her eyes had turned to Luke, who had just sat there in the goddamn dark. She said something about how cold it was, that Sam got too drunk and went to bed, that Luke should have a cup of coffee with her, that she was so happy to have him home for the holidays.

The house didn’t look like it had on that Christmas. Redecorated and rearranged, it was like any other house in a magazine. The palette was of mints, sky blues, and calming grays and whites, with dark wood accents… coupled with an ugly recliner that looked very lived in. Charlie had begged Sam more times than she could count to get rid of the damn thing but now she wasn’t sure she’d ever bring herself to pull it out of the house and towards the fire pit like she’d once threatened.

Her jade gaze flickered from the black coffee in her mug and up toward Luke, studying him as he spoke. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in months; neither had she. Ever since she’d called him, she’d worried about him; but what could she do from a country away? And even if he had been here, what would she have done differently? Charlie wasn’t exact fit for company, despite the attempts of neighbors to prove otherwise.

Sam had always been the friendlier one. He knew everyone. He’d grown up here, and he was the only reason she’d felt like she fit in. Now, every time she went to the damn store she was stared at, and whispered flooded her with grief and uncertainty.

“You saw -- “ God damn the hope that surged through her at the thought of just seeing Sam again. What she wouldn’t do to feel his fingers trail over her cheeks or push strands of sable hair away from her eyes...

“Oh, yeah. No problem. I, uh,” Charlie searched for the right words but all of them would hurt. “I wanted him somewhere pretty but, I’ve got to be honest, I haven’t been since everything. I just feel closer to him here, I guess?” It made sense to her; she knew Sam walking through the doors, laughing as she cursed after she’d stubbed her toe on the corner of the kitchen island. She took a sip of coffee as bittersweet memories rushed over her.

Sam McCormick had been 33 when he’d been taken by her incompetence. She should have been there, searching for him. Making sure that he came to bed safely. Never whispering his brother’s name as her hands went to slide underneath the band of his boxers.

“I can’t ask you to do anything of that,” came Charlie’s hoarse voice, emotions causing her tone to lower. She couldn’t accept Luke’s help on the farm, even if everything he said was true. Because, truthfully, she couldn’t feed all the animals, run any of the equipment, or fight off people who wanted to buy parts of the land she knew she couldn’t tend to. “You’ve got your own life, Luke. I can’t pull you away from that.”

I want to be here.

“Look, I really appreciate the offer. But you can’t uproot your life to help me here.” Charlie tried to offer Luke a smile, though she was certain it turned into a grimace and attempted to hide in the cup of Joe. “And, for what it’s worth, everyone has kept away so far.” That time, a genuine smile found its way to her features, the corners of her lips twitching upward. “You gonna run ‘em off with a gun? Tell ‘em to get off your lawn?”

He sends girls out as quickly as they arrive, giving them barely any time to open their mouths in so much of a hello. There’s even a rumor that he doesn’t allow his face to be seen, cast in shadows that twist and toil around him. Another rumor that says he can’t be killed.

A law that says anyone attempting to touch him will be put to death.

But it’s my turn. And when I’m done? I’ll be the Shadow Queen and the king will be just a memory.

So hi!

I'm Serenia, a 21+ female living in EST. I'm looking for someone specific for the above plot as it's close to my heart. That being said, I'm looking for advanced role-players that can reply in the 3rd person with 3 - 5 paragraphs with each turn and more if required. The frequency of posting doesn't really matter to me as I'm quarantined and available throughout the day. With copious amounts of time on my hands, I've developed a character that is... a bit strong. Ambitious. I've got some ideas behind the Shadow King's powers and history but what you do with him is up to you; after all, he's your character. But I definitely am not looking for a character who's going to be pushed around. The name of the game is slow burn.

People who can play a cast of characters are absolutely preferred. 18+ is a must for mature themes, though I would feel most comfortable with writers 21 and over.

I'm looking to write over GDocs because I really cannot stand the Discord writing limits; I'll do PM but I'll likely forget about them. If you have similar issues, you're probably right up my alley. I'll send you a writing sample of what is indicative of my writing and I would prefer to receive the same. Like I said, I'm going to picky, so if our styles don't match, please don't take offense!

It was easy to forget that Sam was gone sometimes. Most of the time it was the absence of things that reminded Charlie; it was in the way that she didn’t smell coffee when she awoke in the mornings, the way he didn’t barrel through the door in the late afternoon when her dinner was waiting for him. The lack of his presence was suffocating, making it hard to breathe when she walked around alone in the barn or when the house settled at night and it sounded like a footstep.

But there were little things, too. Charlotte had never realized how much Sam had tidied objects away after she’d long forgotten and tucked herself into bed. Such a thing was what caused her to curse, her shin catching the edge of the pitchfork she’d hung up hastily the night before in just the right way. “Shit!” Immediately she slid to the floor, grabbing the area of injury and holding pressure as if it would take the pain away.

As if anything would take the pain away.

Tears welled in her eyes as she sat in the midst of the straw and animal shit that littered the barn floor. Sam had been the dependable one, the one who always did what he was supposed to and – what was more – he was good at it. He didn’t get attached to the animals he raised, understood that hard decisions often meant good outcomes, and that each piece of equipment had its own special place. He excelled at anything he set his mind to and it didn’t take him forever to get the job done… although that was, arguably, what had caused his death.

The white farmhouse became increasingly blurry the longer Charlie sat in the floor. It was only when she thought she was incapable of tears that more came and she wiped at them furiously. This stupid fucking farm. Stupid fucking Sam.

She could still see the way that his brown eyes crinkled in happiness when she got angry at him and the way they’d looked up at her, glossy and empty, when she’d found him trapped beneath Sadie. The poor cow had gotten out of the pen and meandered towards one of the muddiest parts of the farm, not that she had known that. The recent rain had caused the normally dry land to transform into a sticky, sloppy mess; a small rockslide from the hill had caused the animal to misstep, falling onto its side.

There wasn’t much else she knew. Charlie assumed Sadie couldn’t get up on her own and that Sam had attempted to help her stand again. She easily weighed 1800 pounds, thanks to the calf growing in her belly, which Charlie guessed had been why Sam had tried to do what he had on his own. She knew she’d woken up around two in the morning and turned over to grab onto her husband when her hands only gripped sheets. She knew she’d trudged out onto the land with a flashlight and boots, checking all the normal places before worry set in.

She knew that when she found him, she couldn’t do anything but stare. When she finally moved, she’d ran towards the beast that trapped him and pushed without any results. She didn’t blink or breathe for what seemed like hours but Sam hadn’t for even longer. When dawn broke, Charlie had made her way back to the house and called 911.

The neighbors had been kind. They’d brought her food, asked her if she needed anything. They were willing to help but Charlie couldn’t let herself take their offers for assistance. Instead she had thrown herself even further into the work of the farm, tending to the cattle that reminded her constantly of her husband’s death and the chickens that followed him around like dogs.

A wet tongue licked at her face, causing Charlie to refocus on the present. The perked ears of a German Shepherd tilted down and concerned brown eyes looked over the human’s features, searching for some sign of reassurance. Charlie sniffed, raising a hand to scratch at the dog. “I’m okay,” she said softly, as if to convince herself as well as the dog.

Jack’s ears perked and he moved away, stalking off towards a new sound that garnered his attention. The woman sighed softly and stood, bracing herself against the pitchfork that had caused her pain. Her brows furrowed as she heard a voice so familiar that caused her heart to begin aching once more. It wasn’t until the whistle started her into movement did Charlie bother peaking her head around the barndoor.

“Luke?” She’d known he’d be arriving at some point but had little idea regarding the details. Jack moved towards the man with a wagging tail, looking up and pleading for affection; Charlie did much the same, wrapping her arms around the man as soon as they closed the distance between each other. It was almost enough to cause her to cry again but Charlie bit back tears as her cheek found the solid plane of Luke’s chest. “It’s so good to see you!” she said when she pulled away, summoning a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“C’mon. Let’s get you into the house and settled. I swear, every year it gets colder earlier. No sense staying out here without anything to do.” Of course, there was plenty to do. She hadn’t seemed to have accomplished anything since Sam’s death but she had managed to keep the animals alive, if only barely. Jake yipped with excitement and moved towards the farmhouse, his tail continuing to wag playfully as he stood by the front door.

The house was old but tastefully restored thanks to Charlie’s decorative palate and Sam’s handyman abilities. Some parts still had a small amount of work but, as a whole, the home was cozy and livable. The old oak hardwood floors creaked as she stepped across them and into the kitchen, grabbing at two mugs. “You want coffee?” she asked, going through the motions regardless of Luke’s answer.